


Broken Wings

by fogsblue



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Romance, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fogsblue/pseuds/fogsblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where you can learn so much about person in a single look, the Doctor’s never seen another with wings like his. Until he sees her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on tumblr - 20. breaking the rules, 35. eternal, 13. in the storm and 16. broken wings (AU) - Ten/Rose. I might continue it one day, if the inspiration strikes, but it sort of works as it is, so we'll see.

In a world where you can learn so much about person in a single look, the Doctor’s well aware what people see when they look at him. He knows exactly why so many pity him, why so many avoid him. He even understands them. There’s a time when he would have been the same. In all his many, too many, years of life, he’s never seen another person with wings like his.

On the day he meets her, his own, once bright blue wings are dark, almost black and half unfolded. They no longer move like they should. They’re a bedraggled mess with feathers bent and out of place, any glow they once had now long gone. These days, it’s as if his wings pull in the light around them. He’s been through to much, seen too much. He’s broken, and hurt, unable to see anything good around him, unable to find anything worth believing in. Many days, he struggles to find a reason to keep on moving.

It’s been so long since he’s flown, he’s trapped on the ground, always walking now, the tips of his wings trailing him, in the dirt. Normally, he can walk the whole day without ever really seeing another person.

But her, he sees her.

He thinks to most, she would also be an object of pity, as she sits on the steps of an old and dingy block of flats. She watches the sky and even the blind could see the longing in her eyes as she traces the paths of people riding the winds above her. But it’s not the longing, something he’s all too familiar with, that pulls his attention. It’s the way her wings don’t rest properly on her back either, their angles wrong and awkward but still… They shine. She has wings like the sun, an unusual golden colour that doesn’t just glow, it radiates.

Walking over to her, he’s almost beside her before he realises he doesn’t know what to say. As his shadow falls across her, she looks up, glancing behind him to see his wings. Looking back to his face, he expects pity. She doesn’t offer that, just a kind smile, the type one shares with someone else who might understand how you feel. She pats the place beside her, gesturing for him to sit.

“I’m Rose,” she says quietly, eyes turning back to the sky.

“The Doctor,” he replies, his voice oddly rough and he wonders how long it’s been since he spoke.

He watches her and the curiosity he hasn’t felt in years wanders through him until, unable to sit in silence any longer, he asks, “What happened?”

She looks back at him, and blinks. He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed, knowing that asking questions like that is frowned upon in polite society. Studying him for a minute, she finally gives him a half smile and admits, “Bad relationship, mostly. Was always told there was nowhere else to go, anyway. Not for a girl like me.” Shaking her head softly, she sighs. “What about you?”

“The War,” he replies, and it’s enough. She nods, but offers no words of comfort, for which he’s grateful, words feel empty. Everyone knows of the War, of the lives lost, though few are familiar with the survivors, not that there is many of them, he knows. He’s one of only a few.

Silence falls around them and Rose goes back to watching the sky as he continues to watch her. He can’t help but wonder, how it could have happened, how her wings could be so bent but they could still shine like they do. Like she’s still got so much hope, so much kindness. Like she can still see all the good in the world around her.

Rose looks over at him, and turns her head slightly, considering him. Eventually she asks, “Do you think, Doctor, that we can be ‘healed’?”

“Do you want to fly again, Rose?” he asks, though, as she nods, he already knows the answer. “So do I. Maybe we can.”

“I hope so,” she whispers, and even he can hear the sadness in her voice.

Something he hasn’t felt in years flickers to life, a tiny spark of hope forms. “I like hope, hope’s a good emotion,” he whispers.

Suddenly, she grins, her face lighting up, and he’s in awe of how beautiful she is, broken wings and all. He can’t help but smile back. He stands, offering his hand and when she grabs it, he pulls her up.

“Run!” he says, glad when she follows him along, smile on her face.


End file.
